it started as a flicker (but it grew to be an inferno)
by LMoriarty
Summary: Mike had gone from woman to woman — Rachel, Jenny, Rachel, another man's wife, Rachel... yeah, he always seemed to go back to Rachel — and had shown no signs of being attracted to a man, least of all him. (But that didn't mean that he wasn't interested.)


Harvey Specter was smart.

He didn't have the same eidetic memory that his associate Mike Ross had been gifted with, could not recite every line of every single movie, show, and commercial he had ever seen, but he was the best damn closer in the city and there was a reason for that.

So, yeah.

Harvey Specter was a goddamn genius.

That's not to say he was perfect, that he didn't have his fair share of flaws, but Harvey was also the _proudest_ closer in the city and not even Mike Ross and his puppy dog eyes could get him to admit to a single one.

Well.

Nobody _but_ Mike Ross and his puppy dog eyes.

And Donna Paulsen.

His brother Marcus probably could, too, if he tried hard enough, and so could Jessica Pearson, his — and he hated this word with a passion, because honestly it was _barely_ true — boss.

Okay, no. Correction: lots of people _knew_ his flaws, but Mike — and all right, fine: Donna — were the only ones who could make him _admit_ them.

And that was probably because he knew that they never would.

Donna owed him as much as he owed her, and Mike— well, Mike owed him even more than that. Harvey, after all, had risked his job — his _life_ — to protect him... and it happened a lot. Honestly, the amount of times he had lied or threatened to quit probably averaged out to every other week.

But he had no choice.

Mike Ross was a fraud, after all.

A stupid, annoying little fraud that managed to worm his way past all of Harvey's walls and— shit. He had already made a promise to himself to never admit how Mike made him feel, and Harvey flat out refused to break it. Unlike most of his promises, this one _mattered_.

Pretending not to care was a lot harder than it used to be, to say the least.

Harvey blamed Mike.

He wasn't wrong to, either. No matter how odd it happened to be, Mike Ross made him a better man— made him _care_.

Even Donna knew that.

But then again, Donna knew everything.

Including the fact that Harvey wanted nothing more than to push Mike up against a wall, grab that skinny tie of his, and pull him in for a kiss.

A _Harvey Specter_ kiss.

Which was, much like the man himself, a closer. If he landed one of _those_ kisses, Mike would be in his bed before he knew it.

And Harvey probably — _definitely_ — would do so... if Mike was gay.

But he wasn't.

Mike had gone from woman to woman — Rachel, Jenny, Rachel, another man's wife, Rachel... yeah, he always seemed to go back to Rachel — and had shown no signs of being attracted to a man, least of all _him_.

It was rather disheartening, even though, as Donna loved to remind him, he had never bothered to hint to Mike that he had a— Harvey was _way_ too old for crushes, okay? He was also way too old to have a goddamn _boyfriend_ , and... well, he was just too old for Mike in general, really.

"So," said Donna. She leaned against the door's threshold, looking like a goddess in her dress. Donna was gorgeous, really; always had been. The only reason Harvey had only slept with her once was because, well, she had a thing against dating colleagues— and he knew that, no matter how hard he tried, he'd end up breaking her heart. It was better for both of them if they stayed friends, and they knew it all the way up until the moment they moved on. "Are you still moping? Wait, don't answer that. I'm Donna, I know everything."

He frowned, lips curving downwards as he swallowed what was left in his glass. " _Hi_ , Harvey. How are you doing today? Oh, you're feeling like shit? Well, don't worry, I won't make you feel _even worse_ by—"

"Harvey, I know you're pissed at Mike again, but—"

"Pissed?" he echoed, incredulously. That was the biggest understatement he'd ever heard. "Donna, he didn't just _mess up_ this time. We're going to _l_ _ose_ and that's on _him_."

"And he feels _terrible_ about it!" Donna assured him, steadily growing exasperated with her boss' stubbornness— that much was clear as day.

"You _talked_ to him?"

Harvey needed another drink.

"I didn't _need_ to," she frowned. "Everyone's gone home but the three of us, Harvey, and _you're_ only here to get drunk whereas Mike is trying to _fix his mistake_."

Or another _t_ _en_ drinks.

Although he supposed that that would prove her point.

"Good," Harvey said, finally. "If he _doesn't_ fix it," and his voice hardened, "then I _will_ fire him."

"I'm going _home_ , Harvey," sighed Donna. She hesitated for a moment, and then gestured to the the bullpen. "Talk to him before it's too late."

And then she was gone.

Harvey knew that he should listen, knew that he would steadily get angrier if he didn't, but— he was too sober. _Way_ too sober.

He filled his glass higher than he should have, downing it all in a single gulp before exiting his office. The journey across the floor was a blur, partly because of his alcohol consumption and partly because of his speed.

"Harvey," gasped out Mike, rubbing at his eyes, "I'm _so_ sorry, I never meant—"

"Have you fixed it yet?" Harvey asked sharply, hands curling into fists. He wanted to punch something— or someone.

He hesitated.

"Well?"

Mike swallowed. "Not y—"

"So, no?" interrupted Harvey.

"No," confirmed the associate.

He ran a hand over his face, dragged it through his hair. Harvey was— tired, of this, of them. "Come with me to my office, Mike, and... and don't bother arguing. You know what, don't even _consider_ arguing. You were given a really long rope, Mike, and yet you've still managed to reach the end of it. Trust me when I say I'm not exactly in a forgiving mood." Normally, he wouldn't have been nearly so — straightforward is the word that comes to mind, but Donna probably would have used _rude_ — but he was annoyed enough that it didn't bother him.

"Okay," said Mike.

Before he knew it, the younger man was on his couch looking absolutely pitiful— and Harvey would have felt horrible if he hadn't just been screwed over.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

Harvey laughed. He shouldn't have and he _knew_ that, but he was halfway to intoxicated and he just _didn't care_. "I don't give a damn if you're _sorry_ , Mike. You should know by now that apologies fix absolutely nothing, but you know what does? _Results_. So why don't you give me something more than two goddamn words?"

"What do you want me to _say_ , Harvey? I screwed up, I tanked this deal, I—"

"Screwed up? Mike, you _fucked up_!" his voice had raised just enough to prove that he really was angry, "And if you don't fix this, if we don't win, then I _will_ fire you."

"Harvey," he faltered, brain failing to come up with something cohesive to say. Mike started again. "Harvey, this job means _everything_ to me. And you _know_ that, I know you do, so please don't— you can do anything, you can ship me off to Louis for all I care, but _please_ don't fire me."

"Then _fix_ it."

"I don't know _how_ to," Mike admitted. "I've tried every single thing I could think of, Harvey, and _none_ of it worked. We're screwed, okay? And I screwed us."

Harvey shook his head. "No," he said, "you screwed _me_."

He ran a hand through his hair, tugging it harder than he probably should of. "I _wish_ I screwed you," Mike muttered, the words clearly slipping out before he had a chance to think them over. He tensed the second he realized what had been said, off the couch a second later. "Shit, I— I'm exhausted, I don't know what I'm saying. I should just— I'm going home, okay? I'm sorry, I'll see you tomorrow."

Mike went to leave — went to _run_ — but a raised hand from Harvey stopped him in his tracks. "Say that again," he said.

Mike hesitated. "Pardon?"

"What you said before you started scrambling for a cover," Harvey clarified. "Say that again."

He flushed red, visibly growing uncomfortable as he shifted from foot to foot. Mike adjusted his tie, loosening it a little. Harvey's eyes fell down to his neck, to the thin fingers curling around the much too skinny piece of fabric. "I said— I said that I wish I screwed you."

" _Meaning_?"

"Shit, Harvey," he said. "You know what I meant, okay? Don't make me say it."

Harvey paused. He didn't want to degrade himself to begging, but... he _needed_ him to explain. "Please?" he managed to say, conviction pitiful at best.

"You're an attractive man," Mike told him, because how could he say no to a plead from Harvey Specter, "and you've saved my ass more times than I'd care to admit. I'd be a _fool_ if I never— it just never went away. And I tried, okay? I tried _so hard_ , but— I'm sorry."

"That was vague and didn't actually answer my question," Harvey pointed out, "It would never hold up in court."

Mike couldn't help it. He laughed, the sound escaping him the moment Harvey's words processed. Of _course_ he would bring legal terms into their fight. Still, Harvey wanted an answer. "I wish— I wish that you weren't straight, and I _definitely_ wish that you weren't my boss because I want nothing more than to—"

Harvey had him up against the wall almost immediately, hand wrapped around his loosened tie. "Do you have _any_ idea how long I have waited to hear you say that?"

"You... want this? Want _me_?"

"You're _mine_ , rookie," Harvey told him, "I never kid about what's mine." He glanced around, the way he always did in court, "And let the record show that I have wanted you since _day one_."

"So you're not mad about the case anymore?" he asked, hopefully.

He laughed. Harvey couldn't help himself, really; he had Mike up against a wall, was centimeters away from being completely pressed up against him... and the only thing the kid cared about was the case. "No, I'm _pissed_."

And Harvey Specter pulled Mike Ross in, got as close as humanly possible, and pressed his lips against his associate's.

The kiss was yet to fail a close—

And it wasn't going to start now.

* * *

 **Come on. We all knew this was going to happen eventually, considering how much I a, love this show, and b, love this ship. (But seriously, why aren't these two canon? We all knew it should be.)**


End file.
